He was never going to let me go without a fight. But how could he have known I would be at those stones then? Has he been following me? Was he with me every step of that journey? And how would he know how much I loved those books? I don’t think I ever spoke about them to him. As far as I was concerned, I had left Geoffrey and Angus and the little spirits back in the nineties along with my mother’s death. Yet Connor had a way of finding things out about me without me realizing.

I’m lost in my thoughts when the French windows suddenly burst open and Jack walks in. I jump from the table in fright and the phone I’ve been clutching in my hands clatters to the floor.

‘Jesus!’ I cry, my heart in my mouth.

‘Oh gosh, Vanessa. I didn’t mean to scare you,’ says Jack, closing the doors behind him.

‘Jack,’ I say, slowly regaining my composure. ‘What are you doing out there at this time of the morning?’

‘I’ve been for a jog,’ he says, helping himself to a bottle of water from the fridge and taking a long glug. ‘I’ve decided to get healthy. More exercise, less booze.’

I look at him as he leans against the sink, clutching the water bottle. He’s not exactly dressed for jogging, in his jeans and loose, linen shirt, but I decide not to ask questions. Not after the frosty atmosphere between him and Georgie last night. Still, he doesn’t look okay. He seems jumpy and agitated. His hands shake as he lifts the bottle to take another sip. I think back to my sister’s behaviour, the multiple glasses of wine with dinner, the sharp way she had spoken to Jack. They’ve had an argument, I reason. Jack slept in the guest room then got up early and went for a walk to clear his head. The ‘jog’ lie would be to spare having to worry me. That will be it.

Anyway, despite my fright, I’m actually glad Jack is up and about. I feel less vulnerable with him here. I’ve always felt that way. There is something solid and immoveable about my brother-in-law, the man who first came into our lives when we were destroyed by grief. His is a reassuring presence.

‘Well, that all sounds very healthy,’ I say, walking across to the kettle. ‘Now, would you like a coffee or are you off that too?’

‘Oh God, no, I need my caffeine,’ he says.

I fill the kettle then go to the fridge to get the milk. There’s only a drop left.

‘Is black okay for you, Jack?’ I say. ‘We’re out of milk.’